Into Temptation  DeanCas
by UAWinsest
Summary: Dean/Castiel priests; I love me some blasphemy, mmhmm. I'd love it if Dean was a priest in training and Castiel was a slightly older priest, and if they give into temptation. *One Shot*


**Disclaimer: I don't earn any money from this, and Supernatural and their characters remain the property of Erik Kripke**

**Title**: Into Temptation

**Pairing**: Dean/Cas

**Warnings**: angst, priest kink, m/m sex (frottage), (possibly inaccurate) religious references

**Spoilers**: none, completely AU

**Summary**: _Dean/Castiel priests;__I love me some blasphemy, mmhmm. I'd love it if Dean was a priest in training and Castiel was a slightly older priest, and if they give into temptation._

Dean hugged his pillow closer to his chest, startling a bit at the quiet tap at his door. Only vaguely aware that he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, he moved across his tiny room to pull the slightly-ajar door open.

"Father!" Dean's eyes widened as he unconsciously dropped the pillow down in front of his bare torso.

They say eyes are the mirrors to the soul. Dean first heard this saying in some chick flick he saw in high school, and it stuck with him for some reason, even after all these years. Never really understood what it meant though – until six weeks ago when he was met with the brightest, clearest sapphire-blue eyes he'd ever seen in his life.

He was beautiful. So pure and untouched, and yet so quietly passionate. Virtuous, almost to a fault.

"It's good to see you, Dean," Castiel said warmly. "But I didn't mean to disturb you. Shall I come back another time?"

"No," replied Dean hurriedly. "Just let me just get dressed," he added, pulling the door open wider and motioning for the priest to come in.

Castiel stepped over to the window and politely cast his gaze away. Dean quickly dropped the pillow on the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. "I missed you at mass," Castiel said. "Were you not well this morning?"

Dean sighed quietly and let his gaze fall upon the man's profile, gentle curve of his jaw illuminated by the hazy mid-morning sunlight streaming in from the garden. He stepped closer and lay his palm lightly on Castiel's shoulder. The older man turned to face him, his normally bright eyes uncharacteristically dark with concern.

"I'm fine, Father," said Dean quietly. He wanted desperately to pretend that everything was fine, but obviously the mirror had two sides because Castiel shook his head and reached out to take Dean's hand between his own. His hands were warm and steady, soothing.

"You know you can tell me anything," he murmured. "And I've told you," he added, slight grin tugging at his lips. "Call me 'Cas'. It makes me feel terribly old when you call me 'Father'."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "You're right. I haven't been well these last few weeks, Cas. I've been... confused..." he sighed. "Lost," he added thoughtfully. "Scared."

"What are you afraid of, Dean?" Castiel asked quietly. His voice was barely more than a whisper, nearly lost in the gentle breeze billowing the sheer curtains beside them.

"Of what I want," Dean admitted finally, turning his eyes downward.

"Pray with me," Castiel told him. He nodded his reassurance and with the soft pad of his thumb, continued to soothe tiny circles against the top of Dean's hand. "The Lord will give you strength."

_Our Father, who art in heaven,_

_Hallowed be thy name._

_Thy kingdom come,_

_Thy will be done,_

_On earth as it is in heaven._

The words sprang from Dean's lips against his own conscious will – like instinct, like muscle memory from the years of spiritual learning that had brought him here to this moment. The deep, even keel of Castiel's voice blending with his own had Dean's head swimming, hot rush of blood blooming just under his skin, setting his nerves ablaze. He gazed into the depths of those ocean-blue eyes and was immediately pulled violently under by their current.

_Give us this day our daily bread,_

_And forgive us our trespasses,_

_as we forgive those who trespass against us._

He felt unraveled, stripped down to his core, like Castiel could see the need so clearly imprinted on his soul through the clear reflection of Dean's own emerald eyes.

_Lead us not into temptation,_

_but deliver us from evil._

_Amen._

Dean shook his head futilely against the tears burning hot behind his eyelids. "He can't," Dean whispered, voice cracking over the words.

"Dean," Castiel replied, squeezing the younger man's hands between his own. "He _will_."

"I don't deserve it. I don't deserve His love, or His forgiveness." Dean shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut. He was weak, powerless against it, against the magnetic pull drawing them closer and closer together since the day their paths crossed.

The young man reached forward and smashed his mouth against Castiel's, groan escaping his lips. Dean twisted his fists around the green stole draped around the priest's shoulders and pulled him closer, crushing their bodies together as the kiss deepened. The cool metal of the cross hanging from Castiel's neck felt white-hot against Dean's bare skin, burning him, branding him with the guilt of his actions.

Dean wrenched away with a choked sob and spun around, tears of shame and anger tracing salty tracks down his cheeks. No line of salt could protect Dean from himself, from the want that was so quickly taking hold of him, pulling him further and further away from what he knew was right.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-" His words were lost in a gasp when he felt Castiel's arms tight around him, strong and steady and soothing against Dean's trembling body.

"Shh," Castiel soothed. "It's okay."

"How can you say that?" Dean whispered, voice breaking. He pulled away slightly, just enough to look into Castiel's eyes again. There was something reflected there that Dean had never seen before, but still the man met his gaze sure and steady, warmth of his body overwhelmingly soothing.

Castiel sighed quietly and brought one hand up between their bodies to rest upon Dean's heart. "Because the love here," he whispered, "is the purest I've ever felt... and it's so beautiful, Dean. It's nothing you need to ask forgiveness for."

"I do," Dean murmured thoughtfully.

"You do... what?" Castiel asked, reaching up to brush the moisture from Dean's cheek. The younger man found himself unconsciously leaning into the touch.

"I love you," Dean said. The words felt foreign on his tongue, words that he'd never said aloud to another person before, but had never felt more right than at this moment.

When their mouths met again, it was slow and gentle: sweet press of lips, tongues sliding tentatively together. Dean's whole body was thrumming with desire, but it was different than anything he'd ever felt before. Nothing like the inexperienced fumbling in the back seat of the Impala, the nameless, faceless girls from his past that were nothing more to him than warm curves and something to do on a Saturday night.

Dean curled his arms around Castiel's shoulders, drawing their bodies close together again, hit by a sudden need to feel the press of his skin, the warmth of his soul. "Please Cas," Dean whispered against his lips. "Need you." He pulled frantically at the dark robe draped around the gentle curve of Castiel's shoulders and huffed out a frustrated sigh when he realized his hands were shaking too much to be of any good use.

Castiel took a step back; the loss of his warmth hit Dean suddenly, tearing the breath from his lungs. His eyes widened and his lips parted on a gasp when Castiel reached up and slowly began to undo the buttons down the front of the robe. The priest shrugged out of the dark material and lay it carefully across the foot of Dean's bed. He lowered his eyes, slight flush rising up to color his cheeks as he then tugged at the simple white button-down shirt tucked into black slacks.

Dean's bare feet were frozen to the carpet beneath him, heart about to beat right out of his chest. He was painfully hard, his thick length pushing against the front of his pants, sticky wetness already darkening a spot on the light gray cotton. Dean unconsciously licked his lips when Castiel finally let the crisp white material fall from his shoulders.

He was so beautiful – lean swell of muscles rippling under creamy smooth skin – as his hands continued to move. Castiel reached down to tug at the button and zipper of his slacks, but it was the priest's turn to tremble, nervous and unsure. Instinct guided Dean forward and he managed to work the zipper open, quiet rustle of material crumpling to the floor suddenly magnified in the silence between them.

The thick outline of Castiel's erection was obvious, barely contained by the tight white material of his cotton briefs. Dean stepped forward, moving them both toward the bed until Castiel stumbled against the edge and they fell together onto the mattress. Dropping his hips to align perfectly with Castiel's, Dean braced his weight on his palms and thrust experimentally – once, then again, and again, choking back a moan of pleasure deep in his throat.

It was clumsy and awkward, but more perfect than anything Dean had ever experienced. Castiel brought his arms down and around to curl around Dean's waist, pulling them closer together until their bodies were pressed together from chest to ankle. He could feel the priest's heart hammering against his ribs and drew back slightly so that he could look into the depths of those aqua-blue eyes.

Pleasure – want – need – _love_ – everything Dean had ever wanted – were all reflected back at him, clear as the sky on a summer day, bright as the love shining from Dean's own heart. Castiel smiled then, eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief a split-second before he swiftly turned them over, reversing their positions. He tugged at the elastic waist of Dean's pants and boxers, and the younger man obediently lifted his hips.

Dean's cock sprang up against his belly once freed from the material, hot and hard and leaking a steady pulse of pre-come from the slit. It had been months since he'd touched himself; even longer since he'd been intimate with another person. His arousal was nearly overwhelming, every inch of his skin buzzing with pleasure, with anticipation. Dean raised his eyes to meet Castiel's as the older man dropped his hand down and gently curled his palm around Dean's erection.

Dean couldn't help the gasp that escaped his throat, couldn't keep his eyes from fluttering shut and his hips from jerking up into Castiel's fist. "Castiel," he breathed, the name like a whispered prayer on his lips; quiet, solemn, reverent. "Please... please," he repeated, over and over again. He was so close, too close, barely clinging to every last bit of self-restraint he had left in his body. "Need to feel you," Dean begged.

He reached up and pulled Castiel toward him again, wrestling his hand down between them and pushing at the man's briefs until the elastic was tucked snug under the heavy swell of his balls. Dean craned his neck downward, wanting to look, to see, but wanting even more to _feel_. He brought his legs up around Castiel's waist and pulled until their bodies were locked together again, hard cocks trapped between their sweaty stomachs.

"Like this," Dean breathed, rocking his hips upward. Castiel's hard flesh rubbed wonderfully against the sensitive nerves on the underside of Dean's dick, so he repeated the motion. "Just like this..." he sighed, as they finally settled into a steady rhythm.

Castiel was just as hard as Dean was, slippery-wet pulses of his arousal dripping down to mix with Dean's own. He raised his gaze to meet sapphire-blue eyes again and smiled at the look of pure bliss painted across Castiel's face. His soft, pink lips were slightly parted, quiet gasps escaping on each thrust.

"I'm close, Dean," Castiel murmured, voice strained.

"Do it, Cas," Dean urged. Even as he said the words, he felt Castiel speed up his motions, felt his body jerk and seize, felt the first burst of heat against his stomach.

Dean's name burst suddenly from Castiel's lips and it's what ultimately pushed Dean over the edge, sent him rushing headfirst toward his release, sticky-wet pulses of come shooting between them. He felt the tension slowly drain from his body as the last tremors slowly faded. Dean opened his arms and welcomed the gentle weight of Cas' sated body coming to rest against his torso.

Castiel turned his head and pressed a kiss to the curve of Dean's neck, voice hot against his skin as he whispered, "I love you, too."


End file.
